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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106594">A way with words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookhunter/pseuds/Goldragon'>Goldragon (thebookhunter)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>So long ago and out of sight [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Led Zeppelin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:15:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookhunter/pseuds/Goldragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert often talks to Jimmy in his mind. Things they would never dare say to each other.</p><p>"Leave me here alone<br/>for just as long as it takes.<br/>Seasons turn<br/>Waiting for the weather to break.<br/>Loving up a storm now<br/>Many times I fell from grace.<br/>Seasons turn<br/>Once again our world will change.</p><p>Coming from the cold<br/>Reaching for your sweet embrace<br/>The seasons turn<br/>Hid beyond your world I wait<br/>Is your heart still warm?<br/>A little flame, a special place.<br/>Seasons turn<br/>Once again our world will change.</p><p>All we built has fallen down<br/>Old and new has hit the ground<br/>I know<br/>Blaming tears to lonesome sounds<br/>Hopes and fears have burnt the ground<br/>I know</p><p>Reaching out to find you.<br/>I put it all behind you<br/>I'm back again, I know.<br/>Across the miles I find you.<br/>I'll put it all behind you.<br/>I'm back again, I'm back again, I'm back."</p><p>(A way with words, Robert Plant.)</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy Page/Robert Plant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>So long ago and out of sight [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A way with words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>These things are inspired by Zep songs, Robert's songs, or Page/Plant songs. That's where the seed is, the core emotion or mood that gets me wanting to write. They really start fleshing out when set in context -- checked against the timeline and known events or certified anecdotes (as in, they come from either Jimmy or Robert, though you can't take them at their word), and rounded up with snippets of interviews, bits of footage, and now also stuff you can find in The Big Book (and soon enough in the Anthology, I'm sure.) The connections created between all these threads is what makes headcanons and then fics happen. </p><p>In this work the main moods or feels come from Robert's "A way with words" (from Carry Fire, 2017) and Joni Mitchell's "Amelia" (which I learned that Robert had described as "The story of my life" in a BBC radio interview in 2017.)</p><p>The third huge theme is the Stolen Kiss. There's a (magnificent, stunning) song with this title in Robert's 2014 album "Lullaby and the ceaseless roar" and the expression is heard again in "Heaven sent", in Carry Fire. And, listen, mentioning it once is one thing, but twice, and in that crucial pair of albums? Come ON. You KNOW I'm going to look into it and do something with it. I don't make the rules, Bobert.</p><p>The format is what it is because when I write about these kids, they decide how they want to be written. And although I have gone over it and tried to clarify a number of things you have to be really, really deep inside my head to catch, I suppose a great deal will still come across as vague and hard to follow.  Leds insists I leave it like this, that some of yous will enjoy figuring out what it's about for yourselves, like we enjoyed figuring it out. I hope you do. </p><p>I have provided a bit of help with the timeline and more specific references in the end notes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> (An autumn’s day. A walk. Rain in the air. Leaves have started to rot. The smell is pungent, vivid. Silver trees. Running water somewhere. No birdsong. Quiet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> The ghost walks beside him, hands behind his back, long black coat swinging behind him. Stark white hair.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Strange days.</p><p> </p><p>    Why?</p><p> </p><p>Feel like a teenager. My highs so high, my lows so low. Reading your entries like peeking at your secret diary. ‘Is he thinking about me today?’</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>    Hm. A taste of your own medicine.</p><p> </p><p>Meaning?</p><p> </p><p>    Those oracular songs of yours. Always making me read between the lines. ‘Is that me? Who is this? Who is that? Gosh, I do hope that’s not me…’</p><p> </p><p>You know when they're about you, when it matters.</p><p> </p><p>I'll have to take your word for it.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, you could always just ask.</p><p> </p><p>    So could you.</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t think I was allowed. I believed my permission was rescinded.</p><p> </p><p>    It is.</p><p> </p><p>… That bad, Pagey?</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p>  </p><p>… Are you thinking about me today?</p><p> </p><p>Oh, of course, I have nothing better to occupy my time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Fondly or not so much?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Eye-roll)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Chuckle.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I’ve been thinking about that time. I may have a song.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
   Oh, really? Well, I’d never.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<em>(Laughs.)</em>
</p><p> <br/>
    … What time.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Oh, long ago. You’re better at this than me. When was it, 2012?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
    Oh. That time.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Thanks for not pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. </p><p> </p><p>This is your fantasy, isn’t it?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Ah.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I thought you’d already written that one.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Have I? Remind me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(The ghost glares. Robert smirks, concedes.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh, you know how I am. Repurpose, recycle.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
...Confuse the hell out of everyone</p><p>Why not write about the last one?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
The last one? You mean the time you sat me down solemnly and held my hand like an old aunt and told me to leave you the fuck alone?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I don’t remember using those words.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
The spirit, if not the letter. …You went to kiss my face.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
You had other ideas.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
And for a second, for a very brief second, you kissed me back.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I don’t remember that.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I do. Perhaps I should write about that. </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Why not 2007.</p><p> </p><p>Oh. How giddy you were that night. How lovely. At the party. I watched you from a distance. Like a child, you were. Dazzling. When you’re happy, Jimmy, the stars laugh with you.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
    Oh, spare me.</p><p>...</p><p>I saw you too. Away, apart. Gloomy. ...It was a day of triumph.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
To me it was a wake.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<em>(The ghost turns away in a huff. His anger was always tempered. His silences, terrifying. Still waters run deep.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I’m sorry. I wish I could hide it better.</p><p> </p><p>Hide it. Why can’t you just… embrace it? Celebrate it?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I do. In my own way.</p><p> </p><p>On a good day.</p><p> </p><p>I have quite a few of those, don't I?</p><p>...</p><p>“Hating Zep is hating me,” you said once.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
    Must have been off my head.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
You were. And furious.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
    Heartbroken.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
But you were right, you know. As angry as I’ve been at times. As much as I’ve resented it. I could never really turn my back on it. Renege. It would have been reneging John, and you.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
    Never turned your back on it, seriously? You started running and you haven’t stopped since.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
…</p><p><br/>
I’ve stopped now. </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Have you, really? When you talk about it, I shudder. I never know what's going to come out of your mouth.</p><p> </p><p>… They poke so hard at times, Jimmy. I lose patience. I try to be diplomatic but...</p><p> </p><p>That's you trying to be diplomatic? I can’t imagine what it would have been if…</p><p> </p><p>… If it had just been a band. If it wasn’t for us, you and me.</p><p> </p><p>... Sometimes I have no idea what you really feel about it all, to be honest. </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Oh, it changes with the weather. Or how much they’ve been nagging me about it. Or how much I’m thinking about you.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>I could see it. That night. I couldn’t tell what it was. I couldn’t figure it out. All I knew was that I was happy and you were not. And it wounded me.</p><p> </p><p>...I know.</p><p> </p><p>Even if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have been a great comfort to you that evening. … I’m not good at it.</p><p> </p><p>At what.</p><p> </p><p>    At you. When you’re like this.</p><p> </p><p>Like this? — Oh.</p><p> </p><p>    It’s upsetting. It upsets me.</p><p> </p><p>When I’m weak. When I need something from you. Say, a hug.</p><p>    …</p><p> </p><p>   … I… can’t. You know I. I can’t explain. I can do it when it’s no big deal. But when it matters. I’m paralised. It’s like I have shards of… broken glass in my arms.  Like I’m only going to hurt you more. I don’t know how to…</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Shards of broken glass...</p><p> </p><p>To hell with you, Robert.</p><p> </p><p>Can't I patronise you one teeny tiny bit, not even in my mind?</p><p>...Apparently not.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p>    You’re rubbish at it yourself.</p><p> </p><p>Patronising you?</p><p> </p><p>   Accepting stuff. When you’re like that. You clam up. You… How was I supposed to… When I felt you didn’t even want me to <em>see</em> it. I felt you didn’t want me to realise you were feeling like this. You put on your mask and. … I suppose I could have tried harder.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p>I’m not particularly gifted at it. But Is there anyone who can, Robert?</p><p> </p><p>What.    </p><p>   </p><p> Get through. Do you ever let anyone in, let them under, when you’re like this? Oh, when you’re happy, sure, come on in, everybody. A big tent lush and warm and bright and there’s dancing and music and laughter, and you’re at the center of it all, all fun and lust. The whole world is invited to your joy. But when it’s dark, you want to be left alone.</p><p> </p><p>You share joy. You don’t share this.</p><p> </p><p>Share <em>what, </em>exactly? ...And who said that? Where is it written?</p><p> </p><p>… I don’t know how to do it any other way.</p><p>Anyway. Never mind that all that now, Pagey. Never mind.</p><p>  </p><p>  What, can’t teach an old dog new tricks?</p><p> </p><p>Loving isn’t about teaching.</p><p> </p><p>    Oh, isn’t it? Interesting.</p><p> </p><p>Whenever did I ask you to be anything but who you are.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>“You look dashing this evening, Mr. Page,” you said. 2007.</p><p> </p><p><em>(Robert smiles. Of course he would remember word for word.)</em> “You look like somebody died, Mr. Plant,” you said. Always so sensitive.</p><p> </p><p>I'm sorry.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, forget it. It's been ages.</p><p>...You were annoyed.</p><p><br/>
    <br/>
Upset.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m lost, Pagey,” I didn’t say.<br/>
 </p><p>    Lost...?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Alone in the middle of the crowd. Looking from the outside in. Overwhelmed. All that… hot air around us. It was hard to breathe... All those people gathered around to celebrate something I had spent my life trying to… After all those years, it seems like all I could hope to be was a second rate copy of a kid that disappeared decades ago.  </p><p> </p><p>So dramatic.</p><p> </p><p>That’s all they wanted. If they never heard one new song from me ever again, but instead I kept giving them that, they’d all been happy and content and never missed this old man, whatever he might have had left to say. </p><p> </p><p>You so like to exaggerate.</p><p> </p><p>And even as we grew older and the gigs shoddier and weaker, they would still be coming, just to watch us sit around. Gawking at us, like a freak show. It had nothing to do with the music. It had nothing to do with anything that matters to me.  </p><p>… Yes, you’d turn your eyes away if you were here. You wouldn’t want to hear this.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
    You’re right.</p><p><br/>
...</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Should I remind you that we set up our own standards high enough that yes, we can quite disappoint people, and indeed we have, no matter how happy they were to see us together again? We earned our praises that night. We deserved them. I don't know why you can't...</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I don’t give a toss, Jimmy. I really don’t. Life is short and I will not spend it trying to meet other people’s standards. And there’s no way we could live up to them, those young men. Hell, those young men couldn’t live up to themselves at times, and they were in their prime. But those people, they’d come to see anything with that name on it. It was not a gig, it was some sort of... I have nothing to say to them, absolutely nothing. And they don't want anything from me. Not really.</p><p> </p><p><em>Them. </em>Our fans. People who've been there from the start. And the new people who...</p><p> </p><p>People who are as stuck on that fossilised contraption as… It wasn’t even my Zeppelin up there. It was theirs. I don’t pick the goddamn setlists thinking about what represents my legacy best, or how to make an impression. I don’t submit the arrangements to a committee either. I don’t bloody sing to prove anything to anyone. I don’t get up there to show anyone that I still can. I go up there and I put my heart in my mouth because I believe in it, or I just don’t bloody bother. I choose to sing what makes me feel something.- It was not the music I wanted to make, not the way I wanted to make it. I tore my bloody throat to ribbons trying to vaguely conjure up the memory of that boy. For everyone else's sake but mine. And the whole bloody three-ring circus around it. All that heat. It was a charade from start to finish, Jimmy. It was the ugliest, saddest things about the past and none of the beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>My, are we going to extremes.</p><p> </p><p> <br/>
Because this bloody matters to me! I care with my whole heart! ...I thought you liked that about me.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Anyone would think you were dragged there kicking and screaming and then tied up to the bleeding mike.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I did it because I decided to do it and then I tried with all I had. But I wasn't kicking my heels at the end of it, what can I say. I was glad that I did it, and I was glad it was done. If that's such a bloody crime...</p><p>...</p><p>...<br/>
 </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
… You did well.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Why, thank you.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
… No, I mean it. You did well.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I did all I could.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Not all. I didn't say that.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Oh, bloody hell, not that shite again.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I am awfully sorry. Am I inconveniencing you?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Fucks sakes, Jimmy.<br/>
 </p><p><br/>
You never even considered it, did you. Not for one second. No matter how I felt. If I'd gotten down on my knees and begged.<br/>
 </p><p><br/>
Jimmy… What difference does it make now.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I’d like to believe you did contemplate putting aside your own wishes and doing something for me, for once.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Jimmy, I already did. I just had. Six weeks, one night. Do you think for one bloody second I would have done it if it wasn’t for you. For Ahmet, yes. For closure. That’s all well and good. But what need did I have?</p><p> </p><p>And your vanity had nothing to do with it, of course.</p><p> </p><p>Did I want to settle that account? Was my vanity flattered? Yes of course. But I wouldn’t have moved one finger for my vanity and you know it. Nothing would have compelled me to get involved in that bloody pantomime. No. It was for you.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
...But didn’t you see me? How happy I was? How… alive I felt?  After all those years…</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
What do you think kept me going? </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
...I only asked for one year. Six months.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Darling, weeks later I still sounded like Hoagy Carmichael. I physically couldn’t have pulled it off.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
But mostly, firstly, and lastly, you didn’t bloody feel like it.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
No, I didn’t. Six weeks was enough. I do this for fun, Jimmy. That wasn’t fun.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
…It was, for me.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, Jimmy...</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p>...If it had been on our own terms. If it had been you, and Jonesy, and a few friends, somewhere small. If we’d just sat around together for a bit to play the old numbers, whatever we felt like that day, in a way that felt true. For John. For ourselves. If that had been possible. Then yes, Jimmy. Then maybe. I would have turned to you and it would not have been the same but you would have been there at least. My Jimmy. All that we’d been. ...But that fucking getup. Reminding me every fucking day all that was lost along the way. All I could think of was the last five years. …It was a zombie parade, Jimmy.</p><p> <br/>
… You’d never dare say any of that to my face.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
No, probably not.  </p><p>It was good to see you so happy. It was good to hear you play. To play with you. Of course it was. But still, when I turned to you… you weren’t there. We weren’t there. We weren’t on that stage, that night.</p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>… We could have been, you know. Every now and again, I thought you would…</p><p> </p><p>Every now and again, so did I.</p><p> </p><p>Why didn’t we? I made my mind clear enough, I thought. Surely I wasn't that subtle.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I saw.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Of course you did. So?</p><p>God knows I… Your stage presence is still quite compelling. </p><p> </p><p>And my singing still ‘whispers’ and ‘excites’ and is ‘eveything but sterile’.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Did I say that?</p><p> </p><p>Yes you did. Nicest thing you ever said about me.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Hardly.</p><p>...So?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Oh, Jimmy… Not like that.  Not in the middle of all that... carnival. Every day the bloody racket just kept rising and rising, even before the the gig. Everyday more noise, more heat. More pressure. Everything I hate, piling up to the sky... Not like that.</p><p>I even wondered, at times...</p><p> </p><p>....What?</p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>...What? Is it so terrible you can't even say it in your mind?</p><p> </p><p>It's an ugly thought, true.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>I couldn't even be sure you weren't trying to just recreate the old... Oh, forget it.</p><p> </p><p>That is, indeed, and awfully ugly thought.</p><p> </p><p>And probably unfair.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps. Perhaps not.</p><p> </p><p>You don't know the answer?</p><p> </p><p><em>You</em> don't know.</p><p>You think I would do that?</p><p> </p><p>Apparently I am able to think that, yes. I know how much it matters to you. Sometimes it feels like nothing matters to you more.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>… Well, if you wanted another turn, that was you chance.</p><p>But you didn’t want another turn back then, did you. You didn’t feel it.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
I felt a million things, love. I felt lonely and bereft and haunted.</p><p> </p><p> <br/>
…Was it really that dreadful? Was it such unrelenting torture from beginning to end?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
...No, of course not. Felt good to work up some of the old magic, didn't it? Of course it wasn’t horrible. But once was enough. It was enough.</p><p>You thought I would soften up, didn’t you? That I’d be taken in by the wave and relent and go on tour. </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
… One can be awfully foolish. In the swing of things, one can forget how stubborn you can be.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Please tell me you don’t really believe it’s a matter of being stubborn.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p><em>(Huff.)</em> I’ve been working at this, my trade, for decades, and still, all they bloody wanted that night…That goddamn brat. Swallowing my entire life. Everything I’ve done. That stupid fuck with his cock all but hanging out who had nothing to say that was worth a fuck.</p><p> <br/>
How can you say that. To <em>me</em>. </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
He was a child. A child they made into a god. He was no-one. Walking around like he was due all that worship. Like he was entitled to it. Taking what he pleased and finding excuses for every fucked up thing he did, and no resonsibility. He acted as if he had a right to all his cruelties and all his blunders and all his treasons and all the harm he caused. He was callous and spoilt and... He was twenty-bloody-years old, for god’s sakes. What the hell did he know. He fucked up spectacularly. He had no idea. He was just rolling with it. Letting all that shit happen and carry him with it. Playing a part. Being who they wanted him to be.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
<em>Me.</em> Who <em>I</em> wanted you to be.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
He was your creature, Pagey. And what a creature it was. I don’t resent that. I may have been stupid but they were my choices. I say I’m not him but of course I was, I can’t just shake him off me and pretend… But the man I am now...  I don’t claim to be some sort of a saint now but. Hell, at least I know what I’m doing as I’m doing it. At least I don't make up excuses for myself when there are none.</p><p>Anyway. That bloody kid is dead and had been dead for years. And I haven’t been able to bury him and mourn him because people won’t bloody shut up about him. I can’t see him or hear him for all the bloody din. How can I make peace with him. I sure wasn’t going touring pretending to be him. Six bloody months in his bloody shadow. Always falling short. Never even coming close. Absolutely not.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The one thing that kid had to say that had any meaning, any worth. The only truth there was to him. … It was you. Us. When it was all said and done. The music was out there, it didn’t need us anymore. Apart from that, we were the only real thing about it. The one thing I missed when it was over. Not the carnival, not the crowds, not the money, none of that. There was only one thing I wanted back. It was the best part of it all. The only part worth saving.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
…<br/>
 </p><p><br/>
Wasn’t it, Jimmy? We did well. We were good together. We mucked up everything else, but that.<br/>
 </p><p><br/>
…</p><p><br/>
You think.</p><p> </p><p>Yes. In our own way, we did alright.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>...<br/>
</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Now it's me. It's only me. They don’t expect <em>him.</em> Not anymore. I don’t have to put up an act. And I bloody earn it every night. If they like it, they’ll let me know, and they’ll let me know if they don’t, because I’m not a stuffed mummy to revere. I’m human and fallible and flesh and blood and I’m not on a bloody pedestal. And I don’t compromise. I do what feels right and what feels true and I give it my all because I feel it. I’ve kept doing what we said we would do.</p><p>And I’m proud of it. I make damn good stuff too. I have to work twice as hard at it because they will always compare me to what those kids did and who the hell can compete with… And plenty won’t even give it a chance because it’s not Zep. Have you forgotten how it was, with you and me? But I could always walk out there with my head held high and throw it all in and fuck it, because it was good stuff and we believed in it and we could stand by it, no matter what the hell everyone else thought. And I could turn to you and you were there, right there with me, and it was real. And it meant something. And that felt good, Pagey. It feels good.</p><p> </p><p>Does it. I'm afraid I don't remember.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>     … I don’t have new music, like you. The thrill of it. The audience. I don’t get that anymore.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
You could. If you really wanted to. It’s unfair, putting all that on me. You could have grabbed Jonesy and Jason and Coverversion or whoever the hell and take the show on the road and people would have come. They would have come. In droves. There are many others who can sing that stuff much better than I can anyway. You could have had it. Ten, twelve, a hundred times. You could still be doing it today.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
No I bloody can’t. (Holds out his hands.) </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
<em>(Robert takes them between his.)</em></p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>You prefer the legend. You want to leave it unspoilt. Of course you do.</p><p><br/>
 </p><p><em> (Snatches his hands away.) </em>I've done quite enough to ruin it. It's time I made amends.</p><p>...Besides, where would have been the fun in that.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
… Well, there you go, then. There you go.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Once upon a time I would have tried to fuck this all away.</p><p> </p><p>… And I would have let you.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t quite work though, did it?</p><p> </p><p>Not for long. ...It was worth a try.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Chuckles.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>So what's the song going to be about, then?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
When?</p><p> <br/>
You know when. 2012.</p><p> </p><p>...Not quite sure yet. It's on my mind. Lots of things are on my mind.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Did you think I was still waiting for you after all those years? That I’d been pining for you, waiting for you to come around, my entire life on hold? Did you think we’d snog against the wall and then find us a cosy room and have a tumble for old times’ sakes?</p><p> </p><p>A boy can dream.</p><p> </p><p>You’re impossible. Your vanity is… Oh forget it. I suppose it's what happens when you let the past carry you away. I'm not immune myself.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
No, that was not it. It was not the past, Pagey. - Worship and flattery really suit you. I mean it. You did look wonderful that night. Irresistible. You know what you do to me.</p><p> </p><p>That's my line.</p><p> </p><p>(Chuckles.)</p><p>But all those fanfares and honors and praise and words, words, words. All the arse-licking. All those fancy dickheads who wouldn’t know good music if it bit them in the arse. They didn’t even know John’s nickname, for Christ’s sakes. Why were they there? What for? I had enough. I wanted out. I was suffocating. </p><p>... And then, all of a sudden, there you were. Human scaled. Treading carpet, not some bloody marble pedestal. Not a ten-feet-tall god, forever young, frozen in time, unreachable. No, your hair turned white. Your late, late smile. A man. And us, you and me, we were no legend. We were real. Everything else is bollocks. But this light. Far away, so far away, true, but it was there, and it was showing me the way home.</p><p> <br/>
…You’re doing it again. Your riddles. It’s tiresome.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
They’re metaphors, rather. ...You used to be full of them. Still are.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Not with you.</p><p> </p><p>It's not like we speak clearly nowadays.</p><p> </p><p>We don't speak at all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>You turned away in a fright and checked that the road was clear. For a moment you had that look in your eyes. The one I loathe.</p><p> </p><p>…For god’s sakes. The place was crawling with journalists and every single guest had their camera phones in hand.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
So?</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
Don’t… don’t play this game with me. We’ve been through this so many times.</p><p><br/>
 <br/>
And you haven’t moved an inch. … Two thousand and twelve, Jimmy. What do you think would happen? What are you so bloody afraid of?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s nobody’s bleeding business, Robert! How many times…</p><p> </p><p>One more time at least, it seems. Always one more time.</p><p> </p><p>Gosh, Robert.</p><p>...I don’t need the bloody hassle. Do you want the hassle?</p><p> </p><p>Most of the time, no.</p><p> </p><p>… It’s all out there anyway. I even put in the bloody book. It’s all out there. For those who want to see. It’s…</p><p> </p><p>Yes. Like we always said. </p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Except you denied me. Explicitly. That’s not what we agreed.</p><p> </p><p>… You’d just.. put out a song called Rainbow, for Christ’s sakes!</p><p> </p><p>And as usual, everybody managed to miss it. Like it wasn’t there. But what you said? That, they did <em>not</em> miss.</p><p> </p><p>… We were never a couple as such. Not at that time, certainly. And we’re not gay. So, where’s the lie.</p><p> </p><p>You’re doing that again. Twisting it and stretching it. It really doesn’t make it any better. You do realise that, don’t you.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>So you were trying to make amends? In the book? DId you hope that would make everything right with me?</p><p> </p><p>I did what we agreed we would do. I put it there for those who are looking.</p><p> </p><p>So it wasn’t even about me.</p><p> </p><p>Would it have made any difference? You’re still sore. There you go then.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, I bloody am sore.</p><p> </p><p>Well, I am too.</p><p> </p><p>?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m free in 2014” — you bloody bastard. You knew it would come back to me. How did you bloody dare. Joke about that. When you know what it means to me. So it annoys you everytime they ask you about it? How the hell do you think it makes me feel? Bloody hell, Robert, you can be so stupid, so tone-deaf, so insensitive, so bloody cruel at times. Wasn’t there a better way to…? …Oh, forget it. Just forget it.</p><p> </p><p>Hardly seems forgotten to me.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, well, who the hell cares anymore.</p><p> </p><p>You do, clearly. … So, it was revenge. That entire misconstrued relationship bollocks. Hitting me where it hurt the most.</p><p> </p><p>…I didn’t sit in my chair twirling my moustache and petting my cat planning how to make you pay, if that’s what you mean. But you were really bloody pushing it. And no, I wasn’t feeling charitable towards you at all.  </p><p> </p><p>Had they been hounding you about it? About you and me? Did someone ask outright? Someone outside the circle?</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p>Why are we even talking about this.</p><p> </p><p>Because we never have. And maybe we should.</p><p>...And because babbling to myself about music and books or whatever isn’t much fun.</p><p> </p><p>Is this fun then? Are you having fun right now, Robert?</p><p> </p><p>I just miss you so much, Jimmy.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>I miss you, I take you out with me on my walks, I throw my arm around you. We hold hands. Sometimes we sit in front of the fire. We play records. We chat. We snog. We laugh. We make love. It’s all quite simple, really. We never needed much, did we?</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>No, we don’t need much.</p><p> </p><p>I suppose I miss you too.</p><p> </p><p>Why, thank you. I didn’t think you’d have the time.</p><p> </p><p>I do nothing but delve in the past all day, dear.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Oh, the past. You don’t really miss me, then.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever do you mean.</p><p> </p><p>That lad. The golden kid. You miss him.</p><p> </p><p>…Of course I do. Not just him though. All of it.</p><p> </p><p>Not this old ruin.</p><p> </p><p>Robert, for god’s sakes.</p><p> </p><p>You always liked pretty things. I’m not such a pretty thing anymore.</p><p> </p><p>…Don’t.</p><p> </p><p>You like antiques as well. I am that. A rarity. Quite sought after, actually. Everybody keeps trying to put me in a museum behind glass.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Laughs.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh, Jimmy. What I wouldn’t give… To have you here, to hear you laugh. To have you look at me softly, like that. But not sad. Not sad. Don’t you think I could make you happy these days?</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>I miss it. I miss us.</p><p> </p><p>… And you want the world to know.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Yes I bloody do. Yes I do.</p><p> </p><p>You promised.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>And you're really quite pushing it now.</p><p> </p><p>I'm a man on a mission, Jimmylove. All's fair in love and war and all that bollocks. It worked quite well for me, once. <em>(Grins.)</em> Won you back from the evil interloper’s arms.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t exactly a hard won victory, if memory serves. Quite a safe bet, wasn't it?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Well, you had sent some signals through the press. Never mind all the nagging behind closed doors.</p><p> </p><p>Nagging… ?</p><p> </p><p>You wouldn’t be with me unless we were working together.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Is that it, then? Because I’m still at it, you know. Perhaps you’ve noticed.</p><p> </p><p>So it’s a collaboration you’re offering.</p><p> </p><p>Of sorts.</p><p> </p><p>Hah.</p><p> </p><p>It might yet happen. Don’t you think? I'm still full of music. I can't believe you are not.</p><p> </p><p>You’d bloody hate it if it did happen.</p><p> </p><p>Why?</p><p> </p><p>A bloody reunion, Robert? Really?</p><p> </p><p>Oh, why not. I still have a few things to say. Don't you?</p><p> </p><p>And you like to say them your own way. As do I. Let's leave it at that.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>All I want is you, Jimmy.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>… I still have things to say to <em>you</em>. There are many ways to make music, aren’t there, baby?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Eye-roll) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh, you know how to play me. And I know how to play you, don’t I? Who can do you better than I can, Jimmy?</p><p> </p><p>You arrogant prick.</p><p> </p><p>My arrogant prick, yes. Even now, Pagey, even now. Who has ever done you better.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>I picture you in my bed, pretty baby. I long to feel you cling to me like you used to. I want to see your face like that. Your face as it is now. I long to hear you call my name the way you did.</p><p> </p><p>Stop that.</p><p> </p><p>I bloody can’t, Pagey. No more than I can stop my bloody heart from…</p><p>    </p><p>And the poetry too. Not the time nor the place.</p><p> </p><p>Time, Jimmy. That’s the only issue. I already took care of the place.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p><em>(Sigh.)</em> Still waiting, then.</p><p> </p><p>Of course I am.</p><p> </p><p>Robert…<em> (Frustrated huff.)</em> That’s… don’t. It’s done, Robert.</p><p> </p><p>It really, really isn’t.</p><p> </p><p>       </p><p><em> (Sigh)</em> We were something. We did some things. Great things. We had a good run. And that’s that. It’s all said and done.</p><p> </p><p>That’s bollocks, Jimmy.</p><p> </p><p>    Gods, Robert. You miss something that… It’s gone. It’s in the past. The man you loved… You’re barking at the wrong tree, Percy. Don’t tell me I don’t get on your tits these days. Everything I do. All that I stand for. All my work. Tell me you don’t despise that man. I won’t buy it.</p><p> </p><p>… My Pagey, my Jimmylove, so busy being Jimmy Page...</p><p> </p><p>… Precisely. If nothing else, we’d be arguing all the bloody time.</p><p> </p><p>You were always hard work. I still don't mind.</p><p> </p><p>How would it even work? Shall we go out on dates, dinner and a show? Shall we move into some cute cottage? Go to the farmer's market every Saturday? Mingle with the neighbors? Have barbecues with the kids?</p><p> </p><p>Why the hell not?</p><p> </p><p>     Sure, that would work just fine. We’re both such a pair of house cats, aren’t we. Just imagine the gossip, Robert. Don’t they pester you enough as it is? You'd bloody choke in it. I know I would. So tell me then, how the hell would it bloody work?</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Oh, right. Luxury resorts. Exclusive, discrete, and remote. You absolutely love those. …Or is it really Morocco you had in mind? A hotel in Marrakech? Every single tourist in town wanting to take a selfie with us. All over instagram in two minutes. And I’m too bloody old to go for a bivouac under the stars, I really am…</p><p> </p><p>Essaouira, rather. Come down to the sea...</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>If the logistics are the biggest problem, Jimmy, we could make it work. We always did.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, we went touring.  We don’t do that so often anymore, do we.</p><p> </p><p>We could just tell the truth. I do, regularly. They bend themselves backwards not to get it.</p><p> </p><p>Hints and metaphors are one thing. Stepping out and saying it outright is quite, quite another. Never mind putting it out there, <em>really</em> putting it out there in their faces. Don’t look at me like you’re some kind of hero of the revolution. I remember you distinctly making a point of mentioning your girlfriends and throwing in all sorts of distractions in press calls in the nineties. Plausible deniability, always. You’re not as brave as you think you are. The ambiguity suits you as well as it does me, so spare me the moral high-ground.</p><p> </p><p>…I suppose that’s fair.</p><p> </p><p>Yes it bloody is, thank you very much. </p><p><em>(Sigh)</em> You wouldn’t be happy, Robert. It wouldn’t make you happy. You haven’t thought this through.</p><p> </p><p>And you overthink everything to death.</p><p> </p><p>… We had great times. Wonderful times. The best. You’re the one who always said… Never dwell. Keep moving. You were the one always looking forwards.</p><p> </p><p>Yes. well. I’m seventy years old, Pagey.</p><p> </p><p>Seventy-two.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Thank you. And you’re seventy-six. And I miss you, today. I long for you, today. I want you, now. Right now. My friend. My lover. I don’t want us to be over. I want you back with me. I don’t know how. I don’t bloody mind. If it has to be luxury resorts then fucking luxury resorts it is. I don’t bloody mind.</p><p> </p><p>Yes you do.</p><p> </p><p>Not so much that I wouldn’t… I’d make that trade. Any day. Haven’t I always.</p><p> </p><p>You say that now.</p><p> </p><p>And I mean it.</p><p> </p><p>Robert... <em>(Huff.)</em></p><p>Sure, one more dance. A couple of weeks in the sun. And then on your way. Ramble on. Something new. Someone new.</p><p> </p><p>… Oh.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, indeed.</p><p> </p><p>…Baby…</p><p> </p><p> It’s a moot point, Robert. Don’t bother with it. I don’t. </p><p> </p><p>…And then I’d come back. Don’t I always come back?</p><p> </p><p>Robert…</p><p> </p><p>Fifty years gone and holding on. I’m still not done with you, Pagey.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>... Not done with you.</p><p> </p><p>Is this when you’d hold me in your arms and sweep me off my feet? Steal another kiss?</p><p> </p><p>Steal?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Eye-roll) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Do you still like it in the mornings?</p><p> </p><p>You must be definitely losing it now. I’ve always hated mornings.</p><p> </p><p>When you’re half asleep. So soft and fuzzy and your hair is a bird's nest and your eyes all puffy, and you know I’m randy as a goat, and my cock is nudging your arse, and you wake up slowly, grinning, so smug, and I bury my face in your neck and mutter, ‘do you want to, Pagey? Do you want to?’ And you groan, and get all purry, and mumble ‘kiss me while I think about it’, and you can feel me raging hard and you’re getting into it too, and I’m so desperate I'm panting and whining like a puppy, and I'm begging you, "Please, please Pagey...", and you laugh, and you say ‘suck me while I think about it’. You lie there stroking my hair lazily, ‘help yourself, then’, you make me work hard for it. And I like your taste in the morning, Pagey. God, your smell too. And I look at you all the time. You’re still half asleep but your body, Pagey, you're burning and straining and awake and mine, all mine.</p><p>And everything else just vanishes. Everything else is just gone. Pure as animals. Just as beautiful. How complicated do you think this is, baby? God knows I love your conversation and your talent and your passion and even your daft sense of humor but at the end of the day, I just… I feel you, I feel it all. In here. Not my cock, goddammit, everywhere. All over, inside, all the way in. It fills me to the brim. That's what I want. That’s what you do to me.</p><p> </p><p>…   That’s still my line.</p><p> </p><p>Bloody hell, then use it! …So I’m not a pretty young thing you can dangle from your arm and show me off around town...</p><p> </p><p>Careful.</p><p> </p><p>…But who can make you feel like I can, baby? Who has ever come close?</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>And nobody has made me feel the way you do. Why the hell do you think I always come back? God, Jimmy, what I wouldn’t give right now to…</p><p> </p><p>Because you can’t have it.</p><p> </p><p>Shh, baby, shh. … Even in my head must you be such a pain in the arse? Just let me lay you down. Let me lay you down and let me do to you all that I would do if… Oh, Jimmy Page, Jimmy Page…</p><p> </p><p>You must be horny as hell if you’re calling me that.</p><p> </p><p>God, I am. You’re still the sexiest thing in the room, in any room. The hottest thing anywhere.</p><p> </p><p>You’re such a fangirl.</p><p> </p><p>And you’re still quite the rock star. You could have me backstage anytime.</p><p> </p><p>I remember.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, lord. When you’d solo’d me within an inch of my life and I just had to…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Bashful smile.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And those other times, when you looked like a shy little boy lost in the crowd, looking for me, brightening up when you saw me. Oh, Jimmy… I’d scoop you up and take you somewhere quiet and hold you. Make you laugh. And then you’d kiss me and you’d tease me and. Come to me. Open up for me. Be with me. Like you never do with anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>How do you know that.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Was that overly harsh.</p><p> </p><p>I suppose I had it coming.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>… It’s not easy, you know.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>You do… You have other people.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You’re the only one, Jimmy.</p><p> </p><p>Hush.</p><p> </p><p>But it’s true. It was true then and it’s true now. Only ever you. I will always come back because I can never really leave you. You just linger on and on.</p><p> </p><p>Hush.</p><p> </p><p>And at this point in both our lives I think I can say with confidence that it’s not just a line.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>If I could get my hands on you right now, baby. …Well, we’d have to wait around a bit for your Viagra to kick in.</p><p> </p><p>Hah hah.</p><p> </p><p>I’d undress you bit by bit and worship each and every inch of you while we waited.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>What?</p><p> </p><p>I look a lot more rock and roll with my clothes on these days.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, baby. But you always felt like that, have you forgotten? The most beautiful thing in the world, you were, Venus on a shell, opals and moonstone and pearl, an angel, and you still tried to hide from me. Don’t you remember?  … But you see him now, don’t you? You see him as he was, like the rest of the world saw him. Prettiest thing there ever was. The most beautiful man on earth.</p><p> </p><p>But for one.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, you’re going all magic mirror on the wall to my Snowhite now?</p><p> </p><p>Who says I’m talking about you.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Laughs.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I saw him. In your eyes. When you looked at me. I saw him then.</p><p> </p><p>So look in my eyes and see yourself now. God, I want you, baby...</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>And don’t you ever wish you could get a bite of the old lion? When you see me on stage? Have I really lost it completely?</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>Oooh… Is that why you never come see me? - I can still cause you trouble, can’t I? I could always cause you trouble.</p><p> </p><p>Well, this is still your fantasy, Robert.</p><p> </p><p>Then why aren’t we rolling naked between the sheets already?</p><p> </p><p>You tell me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(He shuts his eyes and strokes the white hair, the soft face, the frail skin.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>How I’d love to kiss you now. … I’d like to. Hold you in my arms. Spin you around. … Dance with you. Oh, Jimmy…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(They’re dancing now, slowly, cheek to cheek. There is no music.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>How long has it been?</p><p> </p><p>God knows.</p><p> </p><p>You could probably work it out.</p><p> </p><p>Probably.</p><p> </p><p>“On this day, Robert Plant and I danced our last dance. For now anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>That would be one bloody hell of a depressing entry.</p><p> </p><p><em>(Laughs.)</em> I bet you kept the card receipt for the hotel.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t in a hotel.</p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>… </p><p>
  <em>(Dancing.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>(Sigh.)</em> “On this day, we woke up in the same bed for the last time. We had made love tenderly the night before, but we both knew that it was over. It was rather bittersweet. Robert said ‘until next time, until we meet again’, and looked at me the way he does, and maybe I even believed him. We wished each other good luck. Perhaps he didn’t realise it would be that long.” </p><p> </p><p>"Perhaps he thought they’d go back to jumping into broom closets and motel rooms when they bumped into each other. Perhaps he didn’t realise that what they’d had before had lingered so long because it had not ended on their own terms. It was taken away from them. It wasn’t finished. But now it was. They had the years they stole from them, and that was that. There was peace. And so they lived happily ever after, but each his own way.”</p><p> </p><p>That's an awful ending. Thoroughly frustrating. ...Takes three times for a story, Jimmylove. We like a good story, don't we, you and I?</p><p> </p><p>Musn't be greedy. We were lucky for a second chance to do things right. </p><p> </p><p>But it’s not done, love. Don’t tell me it was done, when it was you who...</p><p> </p><p>That was a long, long time ago.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(They're walking again now. The crunch of leaves underfoot. Many kinds of music.)  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Thanks for the book, by the way. Saves me having to buy it. Could be awkward.</p><p> </p><p>You always have the kindness to send me your new albums, so.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not kindness.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, believe me, I know.</p><p> </p><p>No dedication, though.</p><p> </p><p>It’s in there. After a fashion.</p><p> </p><p>… Don’t you half like your riddles. </p><p> </p><p>Pot, kettle.</p><p> </p><p>We have our ways, don’t we.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>Oh, those daily entries of yours.</p><p> </p><p>What about them.</p><p> </p><p>Thank you.</p><p> </p><p>What for?</p><p> </p><p>Oh, I don’t know. They put a spring in my step, every now and again. Keeps the light shining.</p><p> </p><p>That’s hardly kindness either.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks anyway.</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>I’ll be there, you know. When you come around. Still waiting. As long as it takes.</p><p> </p><p>… Robert…</p><p> </p><p>Don’t. Don’t say it. Wings of maybe, eh? It’s not over till it’s over, Pagey.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(The ghost has his hands behind his back. He rolls his eyes one last time and shakes his head, with a soft grin. He’s leaving. His steps are silent.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jimmy. I love you.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(The ghost stops and turns, his eyes sad, but kind.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>…That’s how you know this is a fantasy.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, I don't know. Maybe I can say it now. Out loud. To your face. No metaphors. Want to check?</p><p> </p><p>Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.</p><p> </p><p>It’s an old trick. I’ll show it to you. Any time. Any time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(The ghost’s face is blurred. Well, Robert might very well tear up now if he was really there. He was always emotive, and age is only making it worse.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well, I must be off. Can’t walk around daydreaming and muttering to myself all day. They’ll put me away. Thanks for the chat. You’re not always so obliging.</p><p> </p><p>…No? What am I like then?</p><p> </p><p>…We just walk. I hear your music.</p><p> </p><p>…And does that make you happy?</p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p><em>(A pirate grin, mischievous.)</em> Talk soon, Pagey.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Ambles away.  He kicks a few leaves, stops to notice a curious rock and a mushroom growth. A few drops of rain start to fall, sounds like the woods are breathing in. He puts up the collar of his coat.) </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Let’s go home, eh?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Talking to a different ghost now - dyed black hair. Always a bit dazed, uncertain. Lost himself, teetering on the verge between the man he'd been and the man he had to become if he was to take Robert's hand and walk a new path together. He was terrified, but willing to brave it. Once, Robert made himself softer and smaller to make the ghost feel bigger and stronger. They made beautiful stuff together. They loved each other fiercely for all they knew they had to lose. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Robert takes him everywhere, to this day. As if the ghost still needed him a little. Still sings for him sometimes, in one tiny venue or a little known festival or another. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The ghost has a kind face. He’s in love, and he knows he is loved, and he’s grateful; and so was Robert, god, he was grateful for that too.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hand in hand, they leave the sharp, white-haired ghost behind. Until next time.)</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"I wish that he was here tonight.<br/>It was so hard to obey<br/>his sad request of me to kindly stay away.<br/>So this is how I hide the hurt<br/>As the road leads cursed and charmed.<br/>Amelia, it was just a false alarm."</p><p>(Joni Mitchell, Amelia.)</p><p> </p><p>I steal from Leds shamelessly. "Kiss me while I think about it" is something Jonesy tells Robert in MY fic for MY birthday "Just right" and it's just so fricking good, and other things here and there, lemmie see... "Solo'd within an inch of my life" - oh lord. I just absorb Leds' turns of phrase because DAMN. Leds says fic and fandom are comunal. I call it daylight robery. Or maybe a homage? Heaven knows Led's stuff deserves it.</p><p>Okay. So. Bit of help.</p><p>Referencing Jimmy's daily entries on his website "On this day," which over here we follow eagerly, and (I bet my right foot) so does Robert. (By the way, see what he's up to today...)</p><p>References to Celebration Day, the 2007 reunion concert, which was a huge success in every way. </p><p>References to the award ceremony of the Medal of Honor blah blah in 2012.</p><p>References to the Page/Plant period, 1994 - 2001 (ish. That we know of. The Walking into Clarskdale tour was in 1998, but there was one last Page/Plant concert at Montreaux Festival in 2001. Interesting.) </p><p>A mention of "Led Zeppelin by Led Zeppelin", The Big Book. The history of the band in photos, and a few quotes. (It IS all there for those who want to see. If you can grab a hold of a copy -it's expensive- play Spot the Jimbert. And Spot the Queer. Brace for several WHAT THE FUUUUUCK moments.)</p><p>A mention of Robert's "Rainbow", a song from the 2014 album "Lullaby and the ceaseless roar." </p><p>Reference to an interview with Robert in 2013-2014 or so which caused a bit of a fuss. He more or less insinuated a LZ reunion was possible by saying "talk to the Capricorns" (meaning Jimmy and John Paul Jones) and "I'm free in 2014." It was not a serious comment at all, and I have my own theories about what reunion he might be talking about, and JPJ wasn't necessarily in it. Jimmy wasn't happy to hear about it.</p><p>Reference to Jimmy's infamous, anthological "no homo" in December 2014. He said "People misconstrue our relationship" (with Robert) and proceeded to recount a bizarre anecdote about The Time He Invited A Girl To Scotland. (Cor, 2014 was a busy year)</p><p>Reference to Robert's 1993 album "Fate of Nations." At the time, Mr. Page was touring with Mr. David Coverdale, and doing quite well. Fate on Nations includes an explicit appeal to Jimmy (fading coda of Calling to You, "Oh Jimmeh!"), a more veiled one in "Memory Song (Hello Hello)" (The Prince of Cool, and if you need more, that thing about "who stole the keys to the gate to the castle of love" is 150% Jimbert. Ask me about it at your own risk. I have a powerpoint presentation and I'm not afraid to use it.) </p><p>***"If I were a carpenter", which is a Johnny Cash cover, is also imho an appeal to Jimmy. Robert refered to the band as "our mutual child" in Achilles Last Stand (fight me. I mean, find me an alternate interpretation) so it's not a stretch to read "If I were a carpenter /and you were a lady / would you marry me anyway / would you have my baby" as an appeal to renew their uuuuh musical partnership. (The following verse says "If YOU were a carpenter and I were a lady I would marry you anyway, I would have your baby." Dunno if you can see what he's doing, but right there the song stopped being about class differences.)</p><p>Robert WAS treading on safe grounds in those days reaching out, because Jimmy had been asking him to work together again for, well, forever. If Jimmy was playing hard to get at the time and needed a bit of serenading under his window, or if Robert is always just that extra (bites knuckles - so romantic), you'll have to ask them. In any case, Jimmy Page, you lucky bitch.</p><p>A reference to an incredible quote I bloody love to pieces from an interview with Jimmy from (it says here) the Very Busy Year of Our Lord 2014, but can't find where it came from. I won't marry it, but it sounds genuine enough. The interviewer tells Jimmy that Robert Plant had huge sex appeal, Jimmy says "Yes, he really grew into it" (fucker) and the interviewer goes "with his blonde hair open shirt and supertight jeans..." and Jimmy says "I was rather talking about the music, that whispered in your ear, excited you, put your whole body into vibrations. It addressed archaic instincts, came from deep down and was everything but sterile." -- Don't know you but I can feel Robert preening from across the seas.</p><p> </p><p>And featuring heavily Jimmy's truly anthological, trademark Eye-rolls. I saw one for the first time in the interview after Live Aid when Robert talks about his solo career. *Chef's kiss* What an artist.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
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